ATTN Magazine reviews unweather

To me, unweather sounds like one of these meditative meanderings through personal history. I twist unforgettable highs and lows into idle memory debris. Chronology folds in on itself, with the vivid experiences of last week seeping into the hazes of childhood. Tidal waves of shoegaze guitar drain to leave the hum and drip of degraded tapes, while field recordings from across the UK (Isle Of Mull, London, Hebden Bridge) become backdrops to flickers of melody or acoustic drones, which hang in the foreground like an inner calm or ripe, burdening upset.